


tsunamis with a side of vampire

by mysoulrunswithwolves



Series: love-bites and legwarmers [19]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, happy new year kids, this update is called hurricanes and tsunamis.docx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:43:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9436685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysoulrunswithwolves/pseuds/mysoulrunswithwolves
Summary: "Don't you have someone to kiss at midnight?"Tooru chokes on his tea at the face Kenma makes at this. "Kenma isn't dating anyone right now," he says, exerting all his self-control not to laugh at the expression of disgust on Kenma's face.Hinata twists to look at Kenma full on. "Why not?" He smiles broadly at Kenma. "You're super cute! If I didn't have a boyfriend I would kiss you tonight!"alternatively: everyone is mostly happy for a changetoday in love-bites and legwarmers: winter break pt2, kenhina, and the devastation of hurricanes and tsunamis





	

**Author's Note:**

> I close my open letter of apology to Oikawa Tooru
> 
> ...and start my open letter of apology to Tsukishima Kei

Hajime can’t remember the last time he had a break from school that was this terrible. In his excitement to see his parents he’d managed to forget that Oikawa lived next door.

He’s reminded, abruptly, when they come over for dinner, of this fact.

By the pained look on Oikawa’s face as he sits across from Hajime, it would seem he forgot briefly too.

“So, Hajime-kun, how are your engineering classes going?” Oikawa’s father asks him politely.

“They’re just fine, nothing exciting.” He eats a piece of tofu. Oikawa hasn’t said anything yet, but he’s waiting for him to say something snarky.

“We’re so glad that you and Tooru live together,” Oikawa’s mother says sweetly as his own mother pats his back in affection.

Across from him, Oikawa begins to look physically ill.

“He tells us all the time,” Oikawa’s mother continues, “about how you help him with his math homework and keep him from studying all night every night.”

Hajime almost chokes on a piece of beef. He looks up at Oikawa who is looking between Hajime and his own mother with panic in his eyes.

“ _Mom,_ ” he hisses, no longer looking a Hajime.

“What?” she asks innocently. “You talk about it all the time.”

Hajime is sure he’s the only one at the table who sees the way Oikawa’s shoulders curl in slightly, how his eyes are just a little too bright with mortification.

Oikawa always makes the greatest effort to be unreadable by everyone around him, hides his true feelings deep down where nobody can get to them. It’s one of the things that drives Hajime crazy. It’s taken him years to start seeing past the walls Oikawa throws up like he’s besieged by armies on every side.

Hajime supposes, that in this family, he has been besieged on all sides for most of his life.

Conversation picks up again, continuing without much input from Oikawa or Hajime, and he tries not to take it personally when Oikawa excuses himself from the table as soon as he’s finished eating the bare minimum he can get away with. He doesn’t look at Hajime once.

Oikawa is gone the next morning.

***

Kenma barely tolerates most people. Some are easier to deal with than others, but in general, the vast majority are annoying to him.

Hinata Shouyou, as it turns out, is not one of those people.

He should be, by all rights, someone that annoys him. He’s loud, unapologetic, and completely ignorant of any physical boundaries whatsoever.

Kenma should hate him.

But he doesn’t.

 

When he finally surfaces from his basement room after twelve straight hours of coding, it’s to find Hinata sitting on the couch texting someone, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his teeth.

And Kenma, well, Kenma is so tired and so sick of seeing endless strings of code flying across his screen that for perhaps the first time in his life he experiences an intense craving to be hugged.

So, he walks over to the couch and curls up in Hinata’s lap with absolutely no warning, too tired and uncaring to bother explaining himself or to think about what he’s doing.

Of all the ways Kenma expected Hinata to react to this, it wasn’t by calmly placing his arms around Kenma and squeezing him gently before continuing to text whoever he’s talking to. Kenma is, a bit shocked by the reaction. He had thought that Hinata would exclaim loudly, make one of those sounds that wasn’t a word to anyone except Hinata.

Instead he’s met with silence that lingers for several minutes until his breathing is deep and even. He can feel the steady beat of Hinata’s heart against his side. He loops his arms around Hinata’s neck.

“Long day?” Hinata asks, setting down his phone and speaking softly into the silence between them.

Kenma nods, not really up to speaking at this moment. He presses his face into Hinata’s neck and fights the urge to ask for blood as he inhales Hinata’s unique scent. He smells like sunshine.

“Okay.” Hinata’s arms tighten just a bit around him. “I’ve got you until you’re good and _guwah_ again.”

Kenma hides his smile against the soft, lightly freckled skin of Hinata’s neck.

***

Kei has always been methodical about the way he does things.

So, it follows, that he would be methodical about falling in love.

Except he’s falling in love with Kuroo Tetsurou, which is something akin to falling in love with a hurricane.

 

Being around Kuroo’s family is, for lack of a better word, jarring for Kei. Perhaps the most shocking thing is that his family _loves_ Kei. He’s not used to being a person that people like immediately.

He’s not used to being a person that people like at all.

Still, Kuroo’s mother wraps her slender arms around his waist the moment he makes it through the door behind Kuroo. She barely reaches his chest. Still, it only takes seconds before he’s being ushered into the warmth of the house, Kuroo ignored by his entire family as they fawn over Kei so much he doesn’t know whether to blush or begin talking in panic. He thinks he does both.

“If I would have known,” Kuroo says to him later that night, once they’re settled in Kuroo’s childhood room for the night, “that they were going to like you more than they like me, I wouldn’t have brought you.”

Kei snorts, his head resting in the hollow of Kuroo’s shoulder. “Used to being the most adored person in the room?”

“Pretty much.”

Kei whacks him in the face with a pillow.

 

The strangest thing about being with the Kuroo family is how much of a family they actually are. Kei has a family, of course, but not like this. Not in the easy way they joke with one another. His mother would never cluck her tongue over the state of his hair like Kuroo’s mom does every morning. His father would never bother to ask him how his basket weaving class was going (Kei still isn’t sure what Kuroo’s major is, or why he took basket weaving at all). Atikeru wouldn’t pester him to play _Mario Kart_ with him like Kuroo’s does, overjoyed that his older brother is home from college for a few weeks.

Kei likes it here.

He doesn’t even bother wondering if it’s dangerous to fall this far this fast.

Not until it’s too late.

 

Bokuto walks into the Kuroo family room and launches into a soliloquy about how beautiful Terushima is, and how being away from him is _literally_ the hardest thing he’s ever experienced in this mortal life.

Which, Kei realizes, isn’t any different from when they’re at school. He rolls his eyes and turns back to the book in his hands, tuning Bokuto out with the ease that comes from doing it nearly every day since he stumbled into the eye of Kuroo’s storm.

“...going to go out and talk to Bo for a second, okay?”

Kei looks up from his book long enough to acknowledge that he heard Kuroo, not at all eager to listen to them call each other ‘bro’ in as many ways as they can.

Kuroo isn’t gone long, only about twenty minutes by Kei’s internal clock, before he walks back into the room without Bokuto.

Kei looks up over the rim of his glasses, notes the slight slump of Kuroo’s shoulders, the closed off expression that’s carefully devoid of all emotion.

“Everything okay?” he asks as Kuroo settles down next to him on the couch and rest his head in Kei’s lap. Kei runs his fingers through Kuroo’s wild dark curls idly as he reads.

“Everything’s fine.”

Kei doesn’t push the issue.

_***_

The next two weeks are the loneliest of Hajime’s life.

He hadn’t realized how used he is to Oikawa being around, even if it’s just on the fringes of his life like he has been for the last month at school. Still, there’s something different about being alone in his childhood home, _their_ childhood home, and feeling Oikawa in every creak of the floorboards, in every painting and curtain.

He’s haunted by the ghost of Oikawa; he can feel the lingering press of his lips against Oikawa’s from the last time they kissed, all those weeks ago. It’s here, in the stillness of his childhood home full of Oikawa’s presence that he can finally admit that he craves the warmth of Oikawa pressed up against him in the coldest hours of the night,

He can feel the craving eroding away at the bands of self-restraint he’s wrapped tightly around his heart, feels every tender feeling that he’s struggled to ruthlessly repress over the last few weeks surging up and drowning him with their intensity. He craves the feeling of Oikawa’s lips against his own, craves the sweetness of Oikawa’s blood; so much sweeter than the familiars his parents keep on hand and a thousand times more satisfying.

It hits him, one night as he’s lying alone on his bed that’s too empty and too cold, that he can’t ignore this any longer. That what he’s feeling isn’t going to go away, or fade with time. He, suddenly and irrevocably, can’t stand to be in this house any longer. He _needs_ to feel Oikawa’s skin beneath his so badly his hands shake.

In the end, it’s the easiest decision he’s ever made.

***

Koutarou is used to his emotions swinging across the spectrum of human feeling. Still, he isn’t prepared for the shock that comes halfway through his winter break. He’s never been good with unexpected emotion being forced upon him.

He thinks, after, that maybe he’s better at handling the unexpected than he used to be.

 

It happens when he isn’t even prepared for it. One moment he’s complaining to Kuroo and an inattentive Tsukishima about the inconvenience of your boyfriend living two towns over and the next thing he knows Kuroo is towing him into the kitchen.

“Bro,” he says, confused about their abrupt change in location.

Kuroo spins to face him. “How long?” he demands.

“How long...what?” Koutarou is confused and whirling, not sure what Kuroo is asking or what he’s trying to say.

“How long were you in love with me?” Kuroo asks steadily, unflinching as he stares into Koutarou’s eyes.

Koutarou feels the blood drain from his face. He was so careful, so sure that Kuroo had never known, never realized how long he had wanted him. “I’m—I—what are you talking about, Kuroo?” He struggles to feign confusion, hoping that if he downplays this Kuroo will let it go.

Kuroo’s expression flits between several different expressions before settling on an expression Koutarou has never seen him wear before.

“How _long_ , Koutarou? How long were you in love with me without saying _a single word_ to me?”

Koutarou realizes, at perhaps the worst moment possible, that he’s never seen Kuroo angry before. “Oh shit, you’re upset by that?” He blurts out accidentally before he can stop himself. He cringes as Kuroo steps closer, fury radiating off him in waves.

“Of _course_ I’m upset,” Kuroo hisses quietly, stepping so close to Koutarou that their chests brush. “I’m so fucking _furious_ that you didn’t say anything and now it’s too late because you have Terushima and I have Tsukishima, but I could have had _you_.”

Koutarou has about three seconds for Kuroo’s words to crash through him, uprooting every emotion and sending it crashing through his system in a torrent of confusion and panic before Kuroo is closing the distance between them and crashing into Koutarou with the force of a tsunami.

It takes him thirty seconds.

Kuroo’s mouth is hot and insistent on his own as Kuroo’s tongue slips past his lips easily to sweep into his mouth possessively, his fingers grasping at Koutarou’s neck and shoulders until they’re pressed together so snugly that Koutarou isn’t sure where Kuroo stops and he begins. His hands are gripping Kuroo’s hips with enough force that he must be hurting him, but Kuroo only moans softly as Koutarou presses him into the counters, needing to be closer, wanting to drown in the feeling of Kuroo’s hips beneath his hands.

Kuroo’s hands are everywhere. They’re tugging at the strands of his hair, dragging down his back, pulling at his clothes, sliding up the bare skin of his stomach. Kuroo teases Koutarou’s lips, tugging softly at his bottom lip before deepening the kiss again.

The tongue tangling with his own in missing the warm weight of metal.

Wait.

It takes him thirty seconds to realize the myriad of ways that Kuroo kissing him is a massive, monumental mistake.

He pushes away from Kuroo so fast he stumbles over his feet in his hurry to get away from him.

“Fuck,” he hears himself spit. “Kuroo, what the actual fuck are you doing.”

Kuroo is pale, mouth gaping, and Koutarou thinks that tonight must be the night for surprises because this is the first time he’s seen Kuroo truly at a loss for words.

“Kuroo I have a _boyfriend_.” The outrage at what Kuroo’s just done, the breach of trust, is so massive that Koutarou finds the words spilling out of him faster than he can think to stop them, but quietly because he’s painfully aware that Tsukishima’s in the next room. “I’m happy now, I’m happy with Yuuji and you’re supposed to be happy with Tsukishima. This isn’t fair to either of them and you _know it._ So just stop, Kuroo. Stop.”

“You’re _in love with me,_ ” Kuroo says numbly, eyes wide.

“No,” Koutarou says emphatically, crossing his arms. “I _used to be_ in love with you.”

Kuroo stares at him, unblinking. “What do you mean?”

“I moved on, Kuroo.” Koutarou can see the exact moment his words skin in, when Kuroo feels the impact of them. “You’re too late, Tetsurou.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns around and makes his way to the front door, careful to avoid the living room on his way out.

He feels it, finally, once he’s a block away from Kuroo’s house.

Kuroo Tetsurou crashes against him with the force of a tsunami, leaving, in his wake, all the wreckage and devastation one would expect from such an event. Koutarou has known Kuroo for a long time, has spent a lot of his time pining after a Kuroo that didn’t see what was right in front of him for the taking, a Kuroo who was too busy tumbling in and out of the beds of anyone who smiled at him the right way. He feels a lot of things as he walks home in the cold December air, but he doesn’t feel regret about anything he said to Kuroo.

What he does feel, is an odd blend of anger, the straining of now-healed wounds threatening to tear open again, and an overwhelming desire to talk to one person about what just happened.

He works his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans and dials.

“Hello?”

He takes a breath of frigid air, feeling it ground him and help settle his emotions. “Hi Yuuji, I need to tell you what just happened.”

Kuroo Tetsurou crashes into him with the force of a tsunami, and for the first time in his life he comes out unscathed on the other side.

***

Tooru is too busy trying to understand how quickly Hinata and Kenma have fallen into a friendship to think about what he feels.

That is, not until it’s late at night and he’s alone in the darkness of his room. In the dark quiet of the night it’s all too easy to feel the yawning chasm that’s taken up residence between his ribs. It’s gotten harder to breathe as of late, and he wonders if maybe his lungs have abandoned him along with his heart.

He wouldn’t blame them, if they had. He’d jump ship on himself if he could.

He lasts a total of two hours every night before he can’t handle the pressure of the silence, can’t manage to fall asleep with the cold emptiness filling him.

With a sigh, he rolls out of his bed, pads quietly down the hall, and slips into Akaashi’s room where Suga is curled up beneath the sheets, his back to Tooru. He doesn’t even bother waking up Suga to ask before he’s slipping between the sheets and curling around Suga’s fine-boned and delicate frame.

Suga stirs lightly as Tooru wraps an arm around Suga’s waist and pulls him closer, tangling their legs and burying his nose in the silver strands of Suga’s hair, a few small streaks of black peeking out here and there in the soft curls of silver.

Here, next to Suga, he feels a bit warmer and it’s easier to ignore the unhappiness slowly swallowing him up from the inside out. But Suga isn’t his, can’t be a permanent fix to his loneliness no matter how okay he would be with that.

He wonders if he’ll ever see the world in anything other than shades of grey it’s been lately. When he finally does drift to sleep, it’s with the hope that the world will shine brighter in the light of day.

 

Tooru is so preoccupied watching Hinata’s steady exuberance for life coax out Kenma’s quiet, tender smile that he forgets to think about Iwaizuimi for almost an entire hour.

Hinata and Kenma are snuggled up together on one end of the couch watching a movie and he’s watching them from the corner of his eye as he sits at the other end of the couch, legs curled up under him and sipping at a warm mug of tea. He doesn’t recall, in two years of living with Kenma, him ever warming to someone new so quickly. It took Tooru a year to get to a point with Kenma where he didn’t hiss at him when he tried to cuddle him. To see Kenma become so comfortable with someone in the space of a week is nothing short of astounding.

“Hey, Kenma,” Hinata says, fingers idly playing with the strands of Kenma’s hair, movie forgotten. “Are you doing anything special tonight?”

Tooru wracks his brain, trying to think why tonight would be different from any other.

“Why would I?” Kenma asks, apparently coming to the same conclusion as Tooru.

“Because tonight is New Year’s Eve!” Hinata says, bouncing a bit in excitement and jostling Kenma in his lap. “Don’t you have someone to kiss at midnight?”

Tooru chokes on his tea at the face Kenma makes at this. “Kenma isn’t dating anyone right now,” he says, exerting all his self-control not to laugh at the expression of disgust on Kenma’s face.

Hinata twists to look at Kenma full on. “Why _not?”_ He smiles broadly at Kenma. “You’re super cute! If I didn’t have a boyfriend I would kiss you tonight!”

Tooru’s self-control completely fails him as Kenma blushes a deep crimson. He laughs so hard that Suga wanders into the room, drawn in by the noise.

“It’s so good to hear your laugh!” Suga says, coming into the room and sitting next to Tooru on the couch. “What are you laughing at?”

Tooru can only point helplessly at Kenma and Hinata as Hinata says, “Kenma why are you blushing?! It would be so _bwuah_! to kiss you!”

Tooru laughs, if possible, even harder at the frozen look of incredulity on Suga’s face as he looks at Hinata and Kenma.

“I’m okay,” Kenma manages to mumble from behind his hands that are now hiding his face from view.

“Hinata, you can’t just go around offering to kiss people!” Suga exclaims in mingled outrage and humor.

Tooru can barely see the confused look Hinata throws at Suga through the tears blurring his vision. He can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard he cried. It feels good to be so happy, if only for a moment.

“Like you’re one to talk, Kou-chan,” Tooru manages to say through giggles.

Suga turns to him so slowly that Tooru can feel the words coming and building in intensity. Even Kenma has lowered his hands and is watching Tooru and Suga expectantly.

“I cannot believe,” Suga begins, “that I have to deal with this from you.”

Tooru would maybe try and curb his continued giggles, now bordering somewhere closer to hysteria than laughter, if he didn’t see the tiny twitch of Suga’s lips upward.

“I give you blood,” Suga continues, “I don’t kick you out of bed when you inevitably crawl in with me at two in the morning, and I would like to know what I’ve done to you to be attacked in this way.”

“Someone’s in _trouble_ ,” Hinata sings, giggling into Kenma’s shoulder.

Tooru watches, his giggles finally fading away, as Suga turns back around to start poking Hinata in all his ticklish spots, causing Kenma to bail off his lap as he begins squirming. Tooru finishes the last of his tea and retreats to his room, the ache to have someone to hold him returning in full force.

The sooner he can move past losing Iwaizumi, the better.

 

 

He doesn’t keep close watch on the clock (it’s eleven forty-two), but he’s the only one still awake when there’s a knock at his bedroom door, so he’s a bit confused as to who is knocking on his door.

He manages to heave himself off his bed and walking to the door, saying, “Suga I swear if you made me get out of bed just to tell me what cute thing Akaashi said I’m going to strangle you.”

He opens the door.

It’s not Suga.

“Hey, Oikawa.”

Tooru, just barely, stops himself from slamming the door in Iwaizumi’s face. The emptiness between his ribs gives a feeble beat of hope. He ruthlessly crushes it under past disappointments.

“What are you doing here?” The words are cold as they leave his mouth. He feels numb as he looks at Iwaizumi, so beyond caring that he doesn’t even feel a pang of regret at the way Iwaizumi recoils from his frigid tone.

“I have something to say.” He walks into Tooru’s room, shouldering his way past him to turn and face him from the middle of his room. “I’ve been afraid this whole time that if I let myself fall in love with you that eventually you would leave me because I wasn’t good enough or you’d find someone better, but I realized over this break that I’ll never be happy until I’m with you, and I’ve already fallen in love with you anyway, so I’m tired of fighting it and pretending like I’m not in love with you.”

Tooru almost doesn’t register the words as Iwaizumi is saying them, so unbelievable to his frail heart that they can’t possibly be true.

“I,” he pauses, soldiers on, “I don’t know what you’re saying to me right now.”

Iwaizumi reaches out and links his fingers in Tooru’s bridging the space between them. “I’m saying that I _want_ you, Tooru. It’s killing me to be away from you.”

“Oh,” he says, and the word is broken and full of pain, even to his own ears. His brain starts to finally process everything Iwaizumi’s said to him in the last few minutes, and his thoughts snag on perhaps the most important detail.

“You love me?” He breathes, feeling the emptiness and despair in his chest start to lift away in the first tentative wave of happiness that sweeps over him.

Iwaizumi steps closer, until they’re almost nose to nose. “Of course I love you. It’s impossible not too, as much as I’ve tried.”

Tooru is overcome with emotion as he goes from hollow and empty to warm and glowing in the space of a minute. And he’s so...happy. He reaches up with his other hand to gently run his fingertips along the sharp jut of Iwaizumi’s cheekbones.

“Iwa-chan,” he whimpers, tears welling and falling from his eyes. He gazes into the warm, swirling depths of Iwaizumi’s green-brown eyes and feels, for the first time in a while, like everything is right with the world.

“Oikawa I’m so sorry,” he says, and Tooru can see the tears lingering on Iwaizumi’s lashes as he moves closer, their noses brushing.

He takes a moment and lets his eyes drift closed, taking a deep shuddering breath at the nearness of Iwaizumi that he’s been so deprived of.

Iwaizumi uses his free hand to cup the back of Tooru’s neck, his other hand still tangled with Tooru’s between them. He slowly, tenderly, pulls Tooru down until their lips meet.

It’s soft, hesitant, healing.

“I love you too, Iwa-chan.” He kisses Iwaizumi again, and this time it’s a promise between them. He can’t promise that there won’t be pain, or that either of them will remain the same people they are now, but it’s a promise that they’ll be there for each other.

Tonight, and always.

Behind Iwaizumi, Tooru’s bedside clock ticks one minute past midnight.

 ***

Koushi wakes to someone shaking his shoulder gently.

“Oikawa, what is it _now_?” he asks, annoyed that Oikawa is interrupting his _very_ pleasant dream about Akaashi.

“Koushi.”

His eyes fly open. That’s not Oikawa’s voice. He turns over quickly in bed and comes face to face with a pair of steady grey eyes.

“Happy New Year Koushi,” Akaashi says, right before he leans in to kiss Koushi deeply.

All in all, it’s not the worst way to start out the new year.

**Author's Note:**

> next time in love-bites and legwarmers: fresh blood, jealously, and the benefits of good communication 
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](https://mysoulrunswithwolves.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/wolfstar_soul)


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